Summer Soap, part 10: Cocky Calum speaks, but meets his match!

Calum:

“Wow, you speak like love is a living thing,” she responded, pressing her chest toward me as she spoke.

I had her hook, line, and sinker now, and so, I donned The Look to seal the deal. “Well of course.” I pinched my brows together and puckered my lips, staring through to her soul. “Love might as well be a god. And darling, I might as well be love.”

She batted her eyes in response, and I pressed the advantage: “This... is what I refrained from earlier,” I started humbly.

“So you’re a beautiful delicate thing?” she cut in.

“Well, I...” My brain stuttered for a moment. “Maybe delicate wasn’t the perfect word, but love certainly is. And I definitely fit the beautiful part, wouldn’t you say?” I flashed The Look again.

The girl forced herself to be silent. But her body betrayed her mind, chin dipping and raising in a subconscious nod.

“And like me, in addition to being beautiful, love is young, and only finds purchase in the young. Not kids like, you know, young adults like us,” I tacked on hastily to the end as she quirked an eyebrow. “But not the decrepit lot like our parents and really anyone over 30 if you ask me.”

“And why is that?” Her eyebrow remained raised, but I knew I had her heart within.

“Well that’s why I said love is a flower before. Love only exists in the beautiful and blooming. Would you like it if a guy bought you flowers that are dying?” I paused for a moment, then remembered that she was weird and pressed on before she could respond. “No, obviously! Not unless they could be revived and made beautiful again. And even then, you would want a better man who bought you blooming flowers, not ones in need of resuscitation.”

I scooted forward in my chair. “I would never buy you dying flowers, darling.”

“Thanks,” she said, fighting to keep the eagerness from her voice.

“So.” I had her now: the coo de grah. “Back to your original question, that’s where I think love is. Love is everywhere, a god, guiding us mortals toward that which we find beautiful, so we can passionately achieve human flourishment.”

I finished my beer in the pause, keeping my eyebrows knit together and locking eye contact. “And you? You’re obviously a smart girl, how would you answer your own question?”

I broke the eye contact suddenly, keeping her guessing, and ordered another Ichiban.

“Well,” she mumbled, “for starters I didn’t ask one question; I asked three. And I didn’t ask where you think love is now; I asked you where it’s from, and what it is.”

A glob of saliva caught in my throat and a series of coughs forced their way out. It was a few minutes before I was able to raise my eyes once more, fighting to keep the water from them. This girl was feisty.

“But,” she continued, “since you asked. I’ll answer. You’re close. And by that I mean you nearly have one of the at least five parts of love I’ve been hypothesizing about from all these interviews.

“But first, we do have one major disagreement, so let’s start there. I know you enjoy talking, so let me ask some more questions. Just, this time please do try to stay on track.

“Now,” she continued, “you speak of love as though it were an entity, or god, correct? One who ‘rules’ and ‘forces’ people to do things, right?”

“I - uh - yes?” I figured the right answer was agreeing with her.

“Alright...” She blinked for a moment, in thought. “So, what would you call the thing that love imbues in these people whom it rules?”

“I’m sorry?” She was starting to annoy me now. “I don’t understand the question?”

“What would you call the thing that love makes people do?”

“Uh love? I guess? Love makes people Love?”

“Tututut.” She wagged a finger. “Don’t you know you shouldn’t define something with itself?”

“Fine.” I angrily swept my hand back up to the bar, nearly knocking over the fresh glass the bartender had just placed. “Then call it desire.”

“Good!” She smiled suddenly. “That’s what I was hoping you would say. So tell me, do you love that beer?”

“Huh?”

“Well you desire it, do you not? That’s why you ordered it. And now that you have that beer, do you already desire the next one? Do you desire that which you already have?”

She was starting to creep me out on top of the annoyance, and I slid back in my seat slowly. “Sure, fine, I love my beer.”

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “You don’t get it. Does a healthy person desire to be healthy?”

“What are you talking about? Are you trying to tell me I should drink less so I can be more healthy? Well I’ll tell you, I...”

“Nope, you’re drifting away again.” She raised a finger and my mouth shut. “Stay on track now, Calum. Why would a healthy person desire to be healthy? They already have it. Yet do you not love how you’re healthy?”

She searched my eyes for a moment then continued. “Here, I have a better one for you. You say you’re beautiful. Do you love being beautiful?”

“Uh, I guess? It’s pretty nice and all.”

“Great! So, do you desire to be beautiful?”

“Well, I already am? Maybe more, but I’m pretty fine as is.”

“Exactly! There you go, Calum. So now back to the beginning. How can love make desire if you love being beautiful, but don’t desire to be beautiful? Because you don’t desire what you already have, but you do still love and appreciate it. You get me?”

I blinked. Hard.

I had to get out of here.